Jarillo Sunset

by Constance Bretes

  “Hmm, you and Vincent dating?” he asked.

  “No,” Char answered. “Rosie mentioned that they had a brother who was a sheriff’s deputy but wasn’t at the wedding.”

  “No, I had to work second shift all weekend,” Deputy Carter explained as they reached the lobby area.

  When Char left the sheriff’s department, she got into her car and drove home. She wondered why Dennis had come down to New Mexico and whether he knew she was there. And how did he get her phone number? She’d had her number changed when she moved there and it was unpublished. But maybe he’d seen her name on a real estate sign?

  Char shifted her thoughts over to Vincent and the situation she came up against when she left his house. The more Char thought about it, the more she decided she should just call Vincent and cancel their dinner. She really had no desire to get involved in a complicated triangle. She picked up her cellphone and dialed his number.

  “Hello,” Vincent answered on the third ring.

  “Hi, Vincent. This is Char.”

  “Yes, Char. What’s up?” he asked.

  “I, um, am thinking that maybe we shouldn’t do dinner Wednesday night.”

  “Okay, if you really feel that way, but I was looking forward to it,” Vincent said. He then added, “That was my ex-wife that showed up in my kitchen today. She wanted money.”

  “Oh, does she always pop in like that?” Char asked.

  “No, this is the first time I’ve seen her in two years.”

  “She’s very beautiful,” Char said enviously.

  “She’s very high maintenance,” Vincent countered.

  “A woman always like to look her best, Vincent.”

  “I had to work a second job to pay for everything she wanted,” he answered swiftly.

  “She didn’t work?”

  “No, it would have interfered with her hair and nail appointments,” Vincent answered sarcastically.

  Char couldn’t imagine not working. “Some women like to look their best all the time.”

  “She was one of those women,” he quipped.

  “I bet you loved it when she walked with her hand on your arm,” Char countered.

  “At first, yes. But when I saw how much it was costing me, I would have preferred that she cut back on the appointments.”

  “She’s a good height for you, and has a beautiful body.” Char once again became envious.

  “That was thanks to the gym membership and the breasts implants, which I also paid for.”

  “How long were you guys married?” She knew she was getting personal in her questions but felt she needed to feel this situation out a bit.

  “Seven years.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Two years.”

  “What caused it?” Char continued.

  “She left me for a better life in Hobbs with another man. I told you I was single.” Vincent sounded like he was getting just a bit irritated.

  “Well, I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to come over if you didn’t want to,” Char said, holding her breath.

  “I accepted your invitation. If I didn’t want to join you for dinner, I wouldn’t have accepted it.”

  “Um, okay then. I’ll see you Wednesday at six?” Char asked.

  “Yes. See you then.” Vincent hung up the phone.

  Chapter 7

  On Wednesday, Char arrived at her apartment around four o’clock and immediately changed her clothing to something more comfortable. She put on a simple flowery summer top that buttoned up the front with a pair of matching capris and a pair of flip-flops with large daisies on the tops.

  She went to the kitchen and pulled the roast pork out of the refrigerator and basted it. She put some vegetables with it and then put the roast in the oven. She walked over to her computer, turned it on, and logged in to check her emails and look at the number of viewers that visited the homes she had listed. She found there were a lot of hits already on the home she’d listed in Shangri-La.

  She did some other housekeeping work on the computer until there was a knock at her door. She looked at the computer clock and noticed it was five minutes after six. She walked over and opened the door. Vincent stood leaning against the door frame and nearly took her breath away. He had on a white, short-sleeved shirt with an open vee at the neck, and a pair of dark jeans with leather boots. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest.

  “Hi, Vincent. Come on in.”

  He smiled slightly and walked inside.

  “Have a seat. I need to check on dinner.”

  “Okay.” He sat down on the couch.

  “Would you like iced tea, pop, milk, or coffee to drink with your dinner?” Char asked from the kitchen.

  “Iced tea would be good.”

  Char pulled the roast pork out of the oven and put it on a platter with the vegetables around it.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” Vincent asked as he walked into the kitchen.

  “No, I think everything is pretty much all set.” She put the platter down on the table, then got the iced tea out of the refrigerator, along with the salad and dressing.

  “It looks delicious.” Vincent took the pitcher from her loaded arms and poured iced tea in her glass and then in his. They sat down and started with the salad, then the main course. “This is really good,” Vincent said as he took another bite of his roast pork with some vegetables mixed in.

  Char beamed with pride she was trying not to show. “Thank you.”

  “Do you like to cook?” Vincent asked.

  “Sometimes. It’s always nicer to cook when you have someone to cook for,” Char answered, hoping she didn’t reveal too much about how lonely she really was.

  * * * *

  Vincent picked up right away that she was lonely. It seemed that she had trust issues and didn’t make friends easily. He didn’t know how he knew and had insight into these things, but Earl Ackerson had told him that his grandfather was one who could always look into other people and know their feelings and thoughts, and he felt that Vincent not only inherited this trait, but shouldn’t suppress his gift.

  Vincent understood the loneliness Char felt. He, too, felt lonely and wanted to have someone he could trust, to talk with, and to spend his life with. But like Char, he had trust issues as well.

  Vincent thought about what he could bring up for a topic of conversation. He asked Char, “Were you born and raised in Michigan?”

  “Yes, I was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan. My mom moved us to Ann Arbor when she divorced my dad.”

  “Do your parents work?” he asked as he cut another piece of meat.

  “Yeah, my dad works at Kellogg Company, and my mom used to be a medical assistant, but now she’s an office manager. What did your parents do?” Char asked.

  “Neither of my parents really worked. Well, I shouldn’t say it that way. My mother made pottery and baskets and sold them at art fairs and stuff like that. My dad only worked when he could find something, but he always ended up getting fired for being drunk.”

  “I take it your childhood wasn’t exactly a Hallmark upbringing.”

  Vincent smiled at her comment. “No, it was not a happy childhood.”

  “My childhood was okay. My mom met a nice man at the doctor’s office where she worked, and she ended up marrying him. He practically raised my sister and I, and my mom and Cameron had a daughter of their own. My life was okay with them, I guess. I never really knew my dad. He was always drunk and always gambling. He missed a lot of important things in my life. Like when I played at a recital, and stuff like that. He even missed my graduation.”

  “What do you play?” Vincent asked.

  “I played the piano. Actually, both my sister and I play the piano. We even did a duet together at a recital, but he didn’t come to that either.”

  “Do you keep in contact with him now?”

  “He calls me once in a while. I’m the only one that will talk to him. My sister won’t even ans
wer the phone if he calls her. But when he calls, he says the same old stuff. He’s won lots of money and he’s going to send me some, and he always asks for my address and never sends anything. I just let him talk and I try to keep him at arm’s length.” Char paused for a few minutes, then continued on. “I talked to him a few days ago. He said he’d won a lot of money, and he was sending me some. He mentioned that he wanted to give something back to me, and I told him if he’d really like to give something back to me, then he could go to Gamblers Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous and stop drinking and gambling. But he said he couldn’t.”

  “Why?” Vincent asked.

  “He said he wouldn’t have any reason to get up in the morning if he didn’t have his gambling and drinking.”

  “That’s sad but true, I think, with any gambler and alcoholic. It really consumes them.”

  Vincent could see that Char’s father and his problems had an effect on her that went deeper than even she realized.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Char asked Vincent, “What’s your story?”

  Vincent sat back in his chair for a second and looked at Char, wondering how much he should reveal. He had never really talked to anyone about his childhood that much, except Bruce.

  “My father was an alcoholic, and he was verbally and physically abusive. He didn’t hesitate to pull out his belt and use it. Sometimes he came after us so hard that my mother had to jump in and stand between us and him, and he’d hit her too.”

  “What could have made him so mean like that?” Char wondered.

  “My parents were born and raised on the reservation, and they were dirt poor. When my parents got married, my dad got drunk a lot, and then got into fights with other tribal members.”

  Vincent started to feel comfortable talking to Char and opened up some more. “He started to get really abusive toward everyone when he drank. The tribe was weak and ineffective in dealing with situations like that at the time. But it got so bad that they kicked him out. So my parents had to leave the reservation and try to live in the white man’s world. He couldn’t always find jobs to support the family, and when he did get any money, he spent it on booze. My mom was the one that brought money in to feed us.”

  “That’s so sad. I’m sorry you had to live in an environment like that. I’m surprised social services didn’t try to get you and your brothers and sisters out of there.”

  “Social services was practically non-existent here in New Mexico.” Vincent smiled sadly.

  “Did the abuse ever stop?”

  “The physical abuse stopped when I was thirteen. I had managed to come up with money to join a local karate club and learned how to defend myself. The teacher there spent a lot of extra time with me, knowing that I came from an abusive home, and showed me some ways to deflect my father’s fists and belt. I grew rather quickly as far as body development was concerned, and I started to stand up to him whenever he came up against me, Patrick, Rosie, and Debbie. William was able to take care of himself. But the verbal abuse, didn’t end until they were killed in a car accident.”

  “What happened?” Char gently prodded.

  “They were driving home, and apparently, hit an icy patch on the road and went off into a bridge. Killed them instantly.”

  “Do you think that’s what really happened? Bruce indicated at the wedding that you thought there was something more to it.”

  “I think they were arguing again and Dad lost control of the car.”

  “Did your dad abuse your mom too?”

  “Yes, at least he did a lot of verbal abuse, but the only time he abused her physically was when she was trying to protect us kids.”

  They finished their meal, and Char smiled and said, “I hope you saved room for dessert. I made strawberry shortcake with real biscuits.”

  “That sounds good,” Vincent replied, smiling back at Char.

  Char grabbed the dishes and moved them to the sink, and then pulled out the strawberries and the whipped cream from the refrigerator. She took the biscuits out of the oven, prepared two bowls of strawberry shortcakes, and brought them to the table.

  Vincent took his fork and dug into the strawberry shortcake. “Have you ever thought about where you would like to be in five years from now?”

  Char thought about that for a few minutes before answering. “I know I’d like to have my own realty business. I’d like to handle multi-million dollar accounts. I’d like to be involved with someone in a long-term relationship.”

  “Not married?”

  “I don’t know,” Char said with a downcast expression. “How about you?”

  Vincent laid his fork down and put both his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together at his chin. “I’d like to be traveling the states, playing in the band. I also would like to be married again, and starting a family.”

  “I don’t know if I could ever think about getting married and settling down like that,” Char mused. “Would you really like to start over in another relationship, get married and have children, even after you already tried it once and it ended in divorce?”

  “Yeah. I still think there’s someone out there that’s right for me and that we’d make it work.” Vincent tilted his head to the right and looked into Char’s eyes. “What’s happening with the house you found the body in?”

  “That whole situation is odd. I’m thinking that the sheriff feels I either know something or had a hand in the murder somehow.” Char wrinkled her nose and drew her eyebrows together.

  “Why do you say that?” Vincent watched her body movements.

  “Well, turns out, the dead body is a man named Dennis Harrison. I used to date him about seven or eight years ago in Michigan. I broke up with him because he was doing drugs. I don’t know what to make of the fact that he showed up here and then got killed. The sheriff said he was shot in the back of the head, and that kind of reminds me of an execution style murder, but anyway, he had my cellphone number in his contact list on his cellphone. The sheriff was extremely interested in all that.”

  “Joe Turner is a good sheriff and a good guy. I wouldn’t worry too much about him. He’s got a job to do, and he has to search out all avenues and all leads.”

  “I also got to meet your brother Patrick. He was the deputy that was with the sheriff when I called their office after I discovered the body, and he was also there when they called me into the sheriff’s department to discuss the case.”

  “This murder investigation is going to be a feather in his cap considering he trained for this, and there is rarely a murder in this county. He’d been thinking about going to Albuquerque and getting a job there.” Vincent stared into her green eyes.

  After they finished their dessert, they both got up and cleared the table, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. When they were done, Vincent walked to the door and Char followed him. Vincent turned and looked at Char. He reached out and put his arms around her gently, and bent down and kissed her. He raised his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes.

  Vincent tightened his arms around her and leaned forward. As he bent to kiss her again, she parted her lips and raised herself to meet his kiss. Vincent’s tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips, and then he moved his tongue in to explore her mouth. He ran his hands up and down her back, and then to her sides. He brought one hand up and cupped her breast.

  Vincent walked Char backward, his lips never leaving her mouth. He laid her back against the couch in a reclining position. He moved over her, partially pinning her down, and continued kissing her. His lips left her mouth to trail alongside her jawline to her ear. He nibbled her earlobe for a few minutes, and then his lips trailed down her neck to the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat.

  Char put her hands on his shoulders, then ran her fingers lightly down his arms as he kissed her. He brought his hand to the front of her and began unbuttoning her blouse. Vincent drew away from kissing her neck to look down at her soft, creamy cleavage. He ma
rveled at the silky skin. He helped her take off her blouse, then brought his lips back to her neck and traveled down to her cleavage. He reached around and unhooked her bra, so that her breasts sprung loose from their entrapment. He looked at her large nipples and was amazed at the beauty of them. He nipped, licked, and sucked on her breasts until he finally got to her nipples. Holding her breasts in his hands, he teased the nipples until they grew taut.

  * * * *

  Char felt a heady, wonderful sensation that made her toes curl, and as his tongue caressed her sensitive, swollen nipples, wild swirls of ecstasy flowed through her.

  Suddenly, they were interrupted by a shrill ringing. Vincent’s hand left her breast and she felt instant cold air.

  He sat up and flipped open his cellphone. “Yeah, Debbie.” A pause and then he asked, “How far apart are they?” Another pause. “Okay, it sounds like you’re ready to go in. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  Char sat up and slipped her bra back over her breasts, hooked it behind her, and then slid her blouse on and buttoned it.

  Vincent snapped his cellphone shut. “I’m sorry, Char, but my sister is ready to go to the hospital to give birth. I’m her coach, so I have to go and get her.”

  Char smiled faintly. “Are you going to help her deliver the baby?”

  “Yes. We’ve been taking Lamaze classes, and hopefully this will go off without a hitch.” Vincent got up from the couch and walked over to the door. Char followed him. He bent down and kissed her one last time. “I’ll talk to you later. Have a nice night.” Vincent hurried out the door into the night.

  * * * *

  When Char was getting ready for work the next morning, she noticed all the reddish marks left on her breasts by Vincent’s passionate kisses. She knew she shouldn’t get involved with him, but there was just something about him that drew her to him like a magnet. Her body craved more of his lovemaking, while her mind was telling her that it wasn’t wise to get involved with someone who worked at a gambling place. She already had to deal with her father being a gambler, but to have someone close to her involved in the game of gambling was not sitting well with her. She felt that casinos always played on the weak and helped the victims to get hooked, sucking them dry of all their money and self-esteem.